


Is That My Shirt?

by nanero11



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Clothing swap, Fix-It, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, M/M, geraskier funday, lil bit of angst with a happy ending, post episode 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23588815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanero11/pseuds/nanero11
Summary: Jaskier and Geralt both find one of each other's shirts. It makes them have feelings.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 251
Collections: Geraskier Fun Day





	Is That My Shirt?

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for Geraskier Funday for the prompt: clothing swap! (@geraskierfunday on tumblr).  
> Please let me know what you all think!   
> and feel free to follow me on tumblr @nanero11

Jaskier slowly trudged his way back to camp. He had left Geralt behind in a sort of a daze, but the further he got away from the witcher the more tears started to sting in his eyes and a thick lump formed in his throat. He knew that Geralt hadn’t actually meant those things he’d said. Right? So why did it hurt so much?

He halfheartedly asked for the details of what had transpired in the dragon cave from the others when he finally got back, but he couldn’t even imagine composing a song at that moment. It felt like there was a heavy pit in his stomach, dragging him down even as he tried to distract himself from the event that had happened earlier.

_Why is it that whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, it’s you shoveling it?_

Jaskier wandered over to where he had set up their bedrolls last night. Geralt hadn’t even bothered showing up there to sleep either. Jaskier supposed he’d probably been off with Yennefer. It just wasn’t fair.

_If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands._

Jaskier tried to push the words aside, but instead they just began to burn themselves into his mind, into his heart. His vision went blurry and he felt powerless, unable to stop the sob that escaped him. Horrified, he glanced up to make sure no one had heard him, before roughly wiping his face.

He had to get out of here. At least for now. It would be for the best. In a rushed haze, he began grabbing all of his things, shoving them into his travel bag. Geralt and him would meet up at some point. They always did, so they could just sort this out then.

…

Geralt groaned as he stared aimlessly out off the cliff of the mountain, frustrated because in the span of just a few minutes he had ended up ruining both of the relationships that had meant anything to him. And it wasn’t just the fact that he had ruined them that had his mind in a state of turmoil, but also that something in him, maybe his pride, maybe his stubbornness, wasn’t even allowing him to go fix it.

He could deal with Yennefer walking away from him. As much as he hated admitting it, what she had said was true. Everything between them had to be the result of his wish. What he _couldn’t stand_ , was the look Jaskier had gotten on his face when Geralt yelled at him, the way his shoulders had drooped, the sadness in his voice, how quickly he had just accepted Geralt’s insults.

Even worse, was that Geralt was now slowly beginning to realize that even if he did go try to make amends with Jaskier, he wouldn’t even know how. Jaskier was the one that had put all the work into their relationship, always coming after Geralt. And what had Geralt done? Just shoved him away. Now the one time that Geralt needed Jaskier to come back, he didn’t, but…but that didn’t mean Geralt couldn’t try to go after him.

Swiftly, the witcher turned on his heel and began the trek back to camp, only to find himself staring in wide eyed shock at the space he knew Jaskier had set up their camp because, for the first time ever, Jaskier had left him.

…

Jaskier let out a relieved sigh as he finally spotted an inn, hoping he could charm his way into getting a room and out of this cold night and downpour of rain, which he accomplished.

Once he shut the door to his room, he immediately got to work, laying out his things so they could begin to dry and searching through his travel bag to see if any of his clothes had miraculously been kept safe from the watery assault all of his other belongings had been put through.

Sticking his hand into the bottom of his bag, he let out a short victory cry, feeling dry fabric. He didn’t care if it was the ugliest thing in the world, not that he bought ugly clothes, but he would prefer to wear clean, dry clothes over the soaked, muddied ones he had on now any day.

Although, maybe he actually couldn’t wear this because the second he saw what it was his stomach twisted and he felt like throwing it across the room so he didn’t have to look at it anymore. Clenched in his hands was one of Geralt’s shirts. Thinking back, he realized he must have accidentally grabbed it in his haste to get away from camp those few days ago on the mountain and it had remained forgotten, shoved to the bottom of his bag ever since.

Those few days had been enough to turn Jaskier’s thoughts about what had happened with Geralt bitter. And, well, if Geralt had meant what he’d said and did want Jaskier out of his life, then surely it wouldn’t matter if he wore the witcher’s shirt, after all it’s not like Geralt would be back for it.

But what had started off as wearing Geralt’s shirt out of spite had quickly turned into moping in bed, as Jaskier began to ponder what he was supposed to do because….because now he was all on his own.

…

“Fuck.” Geralt looked down at the tattered remains of his shirt. He hadn’t been expecting to get attacked in the middle of the night, but monsters could be unpredictable.

He made his way over to Roach and his bag, tugging his ruined shirt off over his head. It was basically in shreds, soaked with copious amounts of blood, and other various monster fluids dripped off of it.

After grabbing his bag, he brought it over to the fire and began digging through it. He had to have a spare shirt in here somewhere. The corner of a light piece of fabric caught his eye, and he slowly drew his thumb across the soft material, wondering where he could’ve gotten such a thing. Pulling it out revealed it to be one of Jaskier’s shirts, and Geralt felt his stomach drop.

He stared at it, not quite convinced that it was real, not even sure when it would’ve gotten stuck in with his things. In the few days that he hadn’t seen Jaskier, his mind had been playing a constant loop of his fight with the bard, the things he wished he could take back, and the things he wished he had said instead. Seeing the bard’s shirt now was just a grim reminder of how much he’d fucked up and that he had no idea when he’d get a chance to fix it.

Geralt slipped Jaskier’s shirt over his head. At first, he hadn’t wanted to wear it. He didn’t want it to face the possibility of getting ruined. One day he hoped he could give it back and he could already imagine the expression on Jaskier’s face if he handed him the remains of a shirt instead of the whole thing intact. But at the same time, he didn’t have anything else to wear, and he figured Jaskier wouldn’t want him to be going around topless.

What he hadn’t been prepared for was the sense of comfort that seemed to envelop him. The shirt was somehow full of Jaskier’s scent, almost like the bard was here himself, and even though Geralt would never admit it, sometimes just being in the bard’s presence was calming for him. When he was with Jaskier he felt like he could just exist, he didn’t have to be a witcher, he could just be Geralt.

His sense of comfort turned bittersweet as his thoughts once again turned to what he had done. For a second, he stayed there kneeling on the ground, beating himself up, before clenching his fists and standing in determination. He wasn’t ready to give up yet. Jaskier couldn’t have gone too far in a couple of days. Geralt would find him.

…

Morning had finally come, but it didn’t really make a difference to Jaskier, as he hadn’t slept a wink anyways. Instead, his whole night had been a stressful mix of trying to figure out what he was supposed to do, being mad at Geralt, and then realizing he was too tired to be upset with Geralt anymore.

It certainly didn’t help his exhausted mood when he figured out that he had to resign himself to continue wearing Geralt’s shirt, as all of his other one’s were still somewhat limp and damp, but he would make it work.

Gathering all of his things up, he made his way to the front counter of the inn to barter for some breakfast, after which he planned on leaving. If he had gotten anything out of his late-night contemplation, it was that he just had to keep moving forward.

…

Geralt had been traveling from town to town all night and as the sun was starting to rise in the sky he was running out of hope. Not one inn or tavern he had stopped at had seen the bard. Either Jaskier was camping out in the woods, which Geralt seriously doubted, or he had gotten a lot farther than Geralt had anticipated.

He brought Roach to a halt, patting her neck in thanks for all her hard work, as he slipped off her for one last attempt at finding Jaskier. Walking into the inn and up to the owner he already knew what he’d hear, _hm, no I don’t think we’ve seen a bard like that come through these parts_.

“Have you had a bard, about this tall, blue eyes, brown hair, talkative as hell, pass through here?”

“Hm, information isn’t free, witcher.”

Geralt sighed, fishing some coin out and passing it over. He had already lost so much to the greedy, useless people he had questioned before this human, and he didn’t see how this time could be much different.

“Yes, I would say we did have a person of that description stay here last night. Left about 10 minutes ago though.”

Geralt felt his lips turning up in a hopeful, but disbelieving smile. _If_ it really was Jaskier that had stayed here, then he had to be in the area still. Rushing out to Roach, Geralt pushed dutifully onward, straining his eyes to focus for just one person.

Not him…

Not him…

Not him…

Wait…

Was that?

“Jaskier!”

…

Jaskier paused as he heard his name being called in Geralt’s voice, but well, it couldn’t be Geralt, could it? Turning he saw the witcher galloping towards him on Roach and he knew that his first thought should’ve been along the lines of _what the fuck is Geralt doing here and am I ready to see him_ , but instead it was _is he wearing my shirt?_

“Jaskier.” Geralt basically threw himself off Roach and, with a huge grin on his face, grabbed the bard by his shoulders. “I finally found you.”

Jaskier stared at Geralt in shock, taking in the witcher’s disheveled appearance, and yes, he was apparently wearing Jaskier’s shirt.

“You’ve been looking for me?” Jaskier asked, finally understanding what Geralt had all but shouted in his face.

“Yes, I—” Geralt suddenly looked Jaskier up and down, drawing his eyebrows together in confusion. “Did you steal this from me?”

“What?”

“You’re wearing my shirt.”

“So what if I stole it? And you’re wearing my shirt!” Jaskier glared at Geralt for a moment, before breaking out in laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Geralt let out a small laugh of his own as the tension diffused and let his hands drift down from to Jaskier’s shoulders so he could instead take hold of the bard’s hands.

“Jaskier, I—what happened on the mountain, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” The witcher had cast his gaze down as he apologized, struggling to be vulnerable, but now he met Jaskier’s eyes. “You are the best travel companion one could ask for and I…I don’t want you out of my life.”

Jaskier beamed at Geralt. “Well, where are we off to next?”


End file.
